


You're Made of Marble

by nuibi_xiongdi



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Natasha Romanov, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Red Room (Marvel), Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuibi_xiongdi/pseuds/nuibi_xiongdi
Summary: The Black Widow doesn’t break.It’s been drilled into her for so long that it’s, in a cruel, sick, sad way, an unremovable part of her.But, sometimes, Natasha is reminded that she has a family even if she thinks she shouldn’t and doesn’t deserve it. That even she’s still human, even after what the Red Room made her, and she has a heart that can actually break.ORFive times Natasha broke down and had a family there for her and one time she didn’t.





	You're Made of Marble

**Author's Note:**

> My first AO3 post. :3 Comments, kudos and constructive criticism welcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Widow doesn’t break.  
> It’s been drilled into her for so long that it’s, in a cruel, sick, sad way, an unremovable part of her.  
> But, sometimes, Natasha is reminded that she has a family even if she thinks she shouldn’t and doesn’t deserve it. That even she’s still human, even after what the Red Room made her, and she has a heart that can actually break.
> 
> OR
> 
> Five times Natasha broke down and had a family there for her and one time she didn’t.

_“Love is for children.”_

_—Natasha Romanoff, the Avengers (2012)_

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he comes back, the first time he forgets her, it hurts. It hurts more than the cold, suffocating grind of the cuff confining her to her bed each night. It hurts more than the tiny spears of ice tearing into her face, her arms, her eyes when training out in the snow.

It hurts more than actually fighting him. Hydra brings him in, his blue eyes clouded and distant, his kind, confident expression gone, replaced with one of complete and utter blankness. His movements robotic and compliant but just as precise and skilled.

 _The Asset,_ the other girls whisper. _The Asset has returned._

Natalia stays silent. Her body stays rigid. But her heart aches like a human's should and whispers _James._ He’s just like before. As dissociated, distant, _inhuman_ as before. Maybe one day she'll be like him. _The Best._ But she's the top of her class, Natalia knows.

That doesn't mean the Red Room isn't full of surprises.

* -*

How it happens, Natalia has no idea. She's about eleven, (she can't be sure about anything that goes on in her head, anymore), when the handlers slack off on hand-to-hand and weapons training.

She has seen it before. She remembers when they had first started teaching manipulation and covers. Natalia, of course, the best at it.

This time is different. The lesson is different. It hurts, a lot, sleeping with a man for the first time. It feels odd and somehow okay and she doesn’t like it. But Natalia was made to be a Widow. _The_ Widow. She can handle it.

Or, that’s what she keeps telling herself.

And, somehow, James comes to her first. One night, one particularly cold, hurting night, after the handler is satisfied with his work and she can barely stand, when she’s painfully limping her way back to the dorm rooms, _his_ gaze follows her.

She knows because she’s been around him long enough to read him. Even when she isn’t looking. Natalia was born with an extra pair of eyes behind her head.

And she doesn’t stop thinking of him. _Can’t_ stop thinking about him, even as the freezing metal cuff encircles her left wrist and the pull of sleep drags her under.

The next day, she tries to forget. Of James, and what he would’ve been doing there at that time. But it sticks. Was he waiting for her? Did he even know she was there? Why?

It doesn’t help that he stays present throughout the days.

Her head spins, her toes scream, her arms ache, (but then again, she's used to everything hurting,) and she doubts it can get it any worse (of course, luck is almost never on her side and it nearly always gets worse). A raised knee, a graceful pirouette, and his face flashes in Natalia’s eyes.

She can’t be sure, she never can be with any of her memories back then, but she thinks she trips. And, well, she regrets it. Natalia hardly makes it back to her bed and she thinks at the time being wiped hurts more. (They prove her wrong, of course.)

In the days that ensure, he drifts closer. Remembers. Steals moments in their cruel, cold world. Natalia remembers last time. She tries to prepare herself. Tell herself that it won’t last.

 _They’ll notice,_ she thinks. _It’s only a matter of time._

Suddenly their scorn for attachment doesn't seem so wrong after all.

But somehow, it lasts. When they spar, when their sure they’re nearly completely alone, James opens up slightly. They trade short questions. She slips him his real name, his serial number, the colour of his sisters’ hair, whispers the name of a fallen Widow there’s no way he could remember.

Natalia doubts she remembers the details right either.

The events afterwards are still mostly blurred. Natalia recalls bits and pieces; curled together with James, the sweet smell of his hair and his strong, safe hold in front of a fire, a moment of warmth amongst a world of cold.

His laugh, probably the last she ever hears from him; kind and reassuring and beautiful, everything it should be.

The snatches of memory get darker after that. The searing press of electrodes on her skull, James’s cry, so painfully distant, and the blank white _nothingness_ that enveloped everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand that's it for this chapter! The next few will be longer, of course. Get ready for some Fluff/Angst at the Barton family farm!


End file.
